


Lazy Lilliputian Afternoon

by die_traumerei



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Flowers, Fluff, Inspired by Fanart, Light Angst, Other, Post-Canon, Shrinking, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22904722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Based on fanart by lonicera caprifolium (linked in author notes). Crowley gets a clever idea and, long story short, that's how Aziraphale, only a bit against his will, spends a summer afternoon making out with his beloved demon in a flower.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 146





	Lazy Lilliputian Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Fully inspired by [this fanart](https://lonicera-caprifolium.tumblr.com/post/189746031963/i-remembered-yesterday-how-angels-and-demons-can).

“Are you _quite_ sure it's safe?”

“You're fine with me angel!” Crowley led him out into the garden. “Come _on_. When have I ever let you come to harm?”

Aziraphale blinked and considered bringing up the time Crowley's horse had spooked and that spooked Aziraphale's horse and anyway it was a good thing he made his own soft landing. Or the time they'd been buried in a sandstorm because they had gotten distracted arguing about the nature of free will. Or the time when Crowley was still getting good with the Bentley and had landed them both in a ditch and it had been time to haul out the healing miracles. Or, for that matter, the other day when Crowley had come into the library, arms wheeling and mouth going a hundred kilometres an hour, and Aziraphale had startled himself into  _quite_ a nasty paper cut and,  _again_ , miracle time.

It occurred to Aziraphale that it may not so much have been that he was  _naturally_ good at healing people (and himself, and select demons), as he had had a lot of practice.

He sighed, and set his book aside. “Hardly ever, I suppose.”

“Right! Safe as houses with me, angel. Come out into the garden, you don't even have to leave the house really.” Crowley grinned and looked so proud of himself, even if it _was_ dangerous (and it probably was), Aziraphale couldn't deny him. Well, it would be fine. Probably. 

He let his carefree demon lead them out to the garden, chattering away happily. Crowley's clothes were loose and soft and easy, the way he was loose and soft and easy now. And, all right, Aziraphale wasn't a  _monster_ . His own dear Crowley was so happy these days, so full of life and quips and was so eager to share everything with Aziraphale. So Aziraphale could join in on the adventure as he always, inevitably, had done.

(Besides which, in his heart of hearts, he knew Crowley wouldn't let any real harm ever come to him.)

“All right, go on then,” he said once they were outside. Aziraphale adjusted his waistcoat, and held his hands behind his back. He stood straight and tall, ready for anything. He would be fine. This would be fine. It was good for him, to do something different.

“Hey,” Crowley said softly, and drew closer, his arms coming around Aziraphale. “We don't have to, angel.”

“No! No, I want to.” Aziraphale smiled. “I want to want to?” he tried.

Crowley grinned and winked. “Now that I'll believe. Close your eyes, it's a little easier that way.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and did so, trying to feel safe and adventurous. He  _used_ to do new things. He used to introduce Crowley to new things! Once, the world was brand new and he had done everything for the first time!

And once, whenever he suggested anything, angels snickered at him. That if he tried something new, chances were even he'd be punished. Healing his own injuries, let alone a demon's, were frivolous, and he ought to do it the slow, human way, and that was why he limped a little in very cold weather. (Lucky he'd already started a truly excellent collection of walking sticks, and no one noticed after a century or so anyway.)

Once, Aziraphale had been taught by the world that it was better to live quietly and not change. That his comforts came from a coat that had lasted a hundred and eighty years, and a friendship that had lasted six thousand.

Crowley's kiss on his cheek was butterfly-soft. “Open your eyes, angel.”

Aziraphale did so, and gazed around himself at a world transformed. Grass like a field of well-grown corn arced above him. He and Crowley were a few centimetres tall, and their garden had become an endless wilderness.

“Oh!” Everything smelled _incredible_. This close to the earth, he could smell the richness of the soil and the petrichor of the morning's rainstorm. A clover flower was an armful, a pile of rocks a small hill.

Crowley grinned. “See? It's amazing!” He took Aziraphale's hand and led him through the grass to a mossy, flat stone. He helped him up and onto it, and Aziraphale in turn tugged Crowley up so they could survey their land from just a little above the surface of it.

A crow flying overhead made Aziraphale duck, and Crowley laughed and slung an arm over his shoulders. “What do you take me for? Nothing can sense us.”

“Oh, of course.” Aziraphale laughed nervously. “Forgive me.”

“For what?” Crowley touched his cheek, and set a soft kiss on his brow. “Did you really think I'd let the love of my life get eaten by a seagull?”

“Well. When I'm fussing at you about moving my books?” Aziraphale peeked sideways at him, and smiled, and Crowley laughed.

“No books here,” he said genially. “So that's all right. What do you want to do, then? Run through the mud? Climb a rose? Watch the ants?”

“I want to sit in a flower,” Aziraphale decided. “With you.”

Crowley blinked, and Aziraphale thought maybe he hadn't been expecting an answer, but then he ought not've asked. You think a person  _knows_ you after a couple millennia...

“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Crowley said, and took Aziraphale's hand in his. “I have just the place. Tell me if you hate it, though.” He snapped his fingers, moving them through the world.

Aziraphale blinked, and they were sat in a great golden lily. “Oh, Crowley!”

Crowley swung his bare feet. “What d'you think, angel?”

“I think I love you very much,” Aziraphale said, and settled back, the cupped petals holding them quite securely. “It's so soft,” he said, and touched the edge of one of the petals, then petted a stamen. Then sneezed. “Oh, do excuse me.”

Crowley just smiled and slipped his sunglasses up onto his forehead, leaning back and sunning like a cat. “These do make a nice little seat. Good thinking, us.”

Aziraphale laughed and turned, leaning in a little so he could get his arms around Crowley and snuggle close. “Good thinking,” he agreed, and his heart bloomed at the look Crowley gave him.

Crowley moved one arm so he could wrap it around Aziraphale's shoulders, and the flower held them both as they kissed slow and sweet in the summer sun. Aziraphale took his time, as he always did, because precious things ought never be rushed.

Perhaps, he thought, he should be enjoying being small, and sitting in a flower, but he  _was_ , and he could do all of that and kiss Crowley too, so that was all right.

“I told you you'd like this,” Crowley gloated, when they took a breather.

“Yes, yes, I'm an old stick in the mud,” Aziraphale grumbled cheerfully. Crowley still had an arm around his shoulders, and he rested his head on Crowley's chest so that they were still entwined.

“Hey. I never said that.” He felt a little kiss in his hair. “You aren't.”

“I am, a bit,” Aziraphale said.

“Aren't.”

Aziraphale poked Crowley in the side. “So mature. Darling, I've dressed essentially the same for two hundred years.”

“So? Blink of an eye for us.”

“But don't you get bored of me?” Aziraphale asked without thinking.

The body under his froze. “ _What_ ?” Crowley asked.

“Oh, never mind, it's a stupid question,” Aziraphale hurried to say. “Forget it. Honestly, Crowley, we should just enjoy this.” The flower swayed in a stiff breeze, and Aziraphale held on a little tighter.

“No stupid questions. You know the house rules,” Crowley said.

“We're not in our house.”

There was a sigh.

“You were saying about not wanting me to get eaten by a seagull?” Aziraphale asked helpfully.

“Not even now, you pedantic old thing,” Crowley said. He turned and trailed a finger down Aziraphale's face. “Flower rules. No stupid questions.” He pursed his lips. “No, wait. _Crowley_ rules. No stupid questions.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale's face went soft. “I can't argue with that.”

“Nor should you. Now, stop thinking you're distracting me. Why on earth would you think you're _boring_?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No, not me. You. Bored of me. That. Well, that I'm not...adventurous enough for you.” He sighed. “Do you think I don't know that I'm more afraid than I used to be?”

“Do you think I don't know that you were punished for not being afraid?” Crowley parroted back. He touched a soft fingertip to Aziraphale's lips, pressed a moment, then moved it away. “My angel. I am very glad I don't have to rescue you from certain discorporation lately.” He smiled. “Although I would.”

Aziraphale blushed. “I'm being very foolish, aren't I?”

“No. You worried about something, and you told me about it so I can comfort you. Isn't that what you're always badgering _me_ to do?”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “ _Now_ you decide to listen to that?”

“Yup,” Crowley said, and smiled at him. “I could never in ten thousand times ten thousand years grow bored of you, angel. You like things the way you like them. You have clothes older than many current governments. You have taken your tea the exact same way since you had your first cup, and same with your coffee. These things give you comfort, and make it easier for you to be in the world. How could I dislike them?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, and closed it again. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Crowley touched their noses together. “And you trusted me to take you on a little adventure. You love new cuisines. If the divorce paperwork wouldn't be a nightmare, I'm pretty sure you'd ditch me for the owner of that Thai-French fusion place we're at every week.”

“Crowley!”

Crowley grinned. “You know what you like, Aziraphale. That's not a sin. I should know, after all.”

“ _Crowley._ ” Aziraphale gave him a look, and settled them anew so he could hold Crowley in his lap, their legs dangling from the flower, setting it to rocking softly and soothingly. “I can't help but feel I used to be...more.”

“No. You used to be different, yes. So was I. So's anyone who lets the world and people and love and everything else touch them,” Crowley pointed out.

“So that's why Heaven always stayed the same,” Aziraphale observed with a thin smile.

“And Hell.” Crowley shrugged. “Fuck 'em all. We've got each other and a house and a garden.”

“And an afternoon spent canoodling in a lily,” Aziraphale said, more comforted than he wanted to admit to. Crowley loved him, and more than that, Crowley _liked_ him. Liked how odd he was, how he wanted some things just so. And he did, but he also spent an afternoon cupped in a flower with Crowley, who was looking particularly beautiful, cuddled in his arms. He could be himself, and stretch and change and grow. There was room for all of it.

Aziraphale was passing the time kissing the line of Crowley's jaw. It was a funny old feeling, bracing himself against velvet-soft petals, but it meant he could lean in and kiss a laughing demon to his heart's content.

“You're not even enjoying the view!” Crowley protested.

“I assure you, I very much am,” Aziraphale said, and kissed him full on the mouth, slow and sweet.

“You have the _worst_ lines,” Crowley murmured when the kiss ended, but they were still only millimeters apart.

Just then the lily jostled, throwing Aziraphale into Crowley's arms with a shriek (Crowley) and rich laughter (Aziraphale). Arms like bands of iron wrapped around Aziraphale, holding him safe and steady, and he laughed again as they bobbled, knowing that no harm would come to him.

“What the Heaven was that!” Crowley demanded, while Aziraphale wriggled free – just a bit, just enough to peer out of the flower – and watched a squirrel run away.

“Just a curious little thing,” he said, while Crowley regretted introducing grey squirrels into Britain all over again. “It's cute.”

“It's a menace,” Crowley observed, and then made sure that Aziraphale was comfortably settled so they could continue kissing whenever they liked.

Aziraphale really  _did_ enjoy the view – of Crowley, of course, but also turning and snuggling up to him, Crowley's arm coming around his shoulders so Aziraphale could rest his head on his thin shoulder and look out onto the world. It was fun being so tiny – everything was vast and beautiful, the flowers great explosions of colour and even the sun seemed more powerful. They swayed in the breeze and watched crows land and scratch and be curious and take off. Huge bees buzzed around them, and they greatly enjoyed watching one get drunk on pollen and bumble its way back home, which gave Aziraphale an idea for a perfect way to spend their evening.

They held hands, and kissed, and teased one another, and planned what wine to have with dinner. Crowley got an idea for new flowers to put in next spring, and Aziraphale helped him to plan where they'd go best.

“A little by the window,” Crowley decided. “So we can open it, and they'll perfume the house.”

“Oh, that will be lovely when I sit and read on fine days,” Aziraphale agreed, and Crowley smiled.

“I know. That's the point, love,” he said gently, and then they had to kiss some more, and Crowley had to hold Aziraphale again, and never mind the view.

So they passed the afternoon; there would be other days they could chase each other around a mud puddle or sit on a windowsill or anything else they liked. When the sun began to set, Crowley told Aziraphale to close his eyes and hold tight, and of course he did, and of course he opened his eyes to find them back to their usual size in their garden, not a scratch on either of them.

They checked, though. Thoroughly. Just to make sure.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> [dietraumerei.tumblr.com](dietraumerei.tumblr.com)


End file.
